Mom and I eavesdrop at dear old Dad's house

Last night I dreamed I was somehow at my father's lavish digs (not his real ones, but a dream version). It was an executive, split level affair in a swanky condo complex. As usual, I felt out of place and a bit overwhelmed by the luxuriousness of it all. 

As I was trying to remain unseen, perhaps slip out the backdoor unnoticed, I heard him talking with his new girlfriend. I strained to hear, but could only catch the occasional word here or there. Of course, my name came up, so I perked up a little. I managed to sneak away right quick and bring back my mom, so she could listen in with me. 

At this point, though, we were discovered and we were forced to endure the awkwardness of his polite overtures as he graciously pretended to be unaware of our surreptitious surveillance. Everything was nice enough, but now both my mom and I were antsy to try to gracefully extricate ourselves from all this magnanimosity. 

That's about it. Sorry, no point to all this. Just the few details that I remember. 

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I have been suffering from insomnia and a Christmas stye in my other eye. Have I mentioned that lately? 

And Lesa has been messaging me more, attempting to be "real" with me. I fear that it is time I have to have a "real" talk with her as well. One that addresses some of the things that are still stuck in my craw from nearly a year ago. 

I came to terms with the reality that there was no chance of us ever being together, but she has kept some of the language of our previous flirtationship alive, even mentioning the computer that I was going to buy for her last Christmas. She never would accept it at the time, but now she's hinting around that, hmm, well, it sounds nice and, gee, it would save her poor fingers when typing all these texts to me. 

I guess I'm petty, jealous or whatever, but I see it as something that I'd be crazy to do at this point. Unless I can come up with the complete generosity of a no strings attached charitable gift. Like my giving weed to homeless people. I would have given her a really bitchen device last year, but I had expectations that it would strengthen our relationship. 

The computer was a selfish, manipulative idea on my part. I would feel that she would be obligated to write more often, video chat more, etc. Like when grandma gives you a phone with prepaid minutes so you can call her and thank her for giving you such a lovely gift. 

I'm just not seeing that it would make me any more likely to receive more attention than grandma does 364 days a year. I'm thinking I'd be giving her this device and she'd be off flirting with Fucken Danny or whoever or whatever from the old punk days. Kinda like she did with the phone she got from her current boyfriend, which she uses to chat with me. 

I'd just be here as her old, back-up, back-up plan. Plan B, sub-plan A, Roman numeral X. Last man on earth, apocalypse type of guy. 

I don't hold many illusions anymore. Just the one that perhaps I'm the most hideous person on the planet. I know that title has to be held by someone more severely deformed, so I can't boast or claim that credit. But emotionally, I'm pretty fucked up. And my outsides are starting to match my insides.